


Peeping Ted

by theianitor



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Austria 2020 pre-quali fic, Boys Kissing, Current Events, M/M, Racing, quarantine measures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: From up in the grandstands, Ted had a perfect view of the pit lane and all the garages. He was also more or less unseen. While he couldn't talk to anyone down there, he could view them pretty much without them knowing.He starts off sweeping the binoculars from one end of the pits to the other. Let's see what people get up to when they think nobody's watching...
Relationships: Jenson Button/Sebastian Vettel, Lando Norris/George Russell (hinted)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 93





	Peeping Ted

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Del for the title suggestion, it was brilliant and I can only thank you again and again!  
> This was a fun write, I thoroughly enjoyed it - I hope y'all will like reading it! <3

It was a pleasantly warm day, not much wind to speak of, a few clouds floating by but definitely no threat of rain. The air was light and surprisingly clear. Beyond the scent of warm asphalt and fuel, he could clearly smell the freshly cut grass and the forests surrounding the track.

The only thing really missing was the _noise_.

Some of it was there, of course; the engines starting up and halting again, the occasional song or two, usually blasted out from the Red Bull garages, and trucks and cars going to and fro delivering things and people. But there was no _background_. The constant hum of talking, cheering, walking, singing people wasn’t there.

It made the whole place feel a little eerie.

Ted had made his way up to the main grandstands and shot the little intro-piece they would be airing to show his quite unique view of things, and now the camera man had left him to it. From a television standpoint, the seat was pretty uninteresting. As someone who was used to wandering pretty much freely among the garages, cars, and people, Ted was inclined to agree.

Still, it was kind of interesting. He set up his binoculars, checked his mic and headphones, and made himself comfortable in the seat of his choosing. From here, he had a perfect, full-frontal view of the pit lane and all the garages. He was also more or less unseen. While he couldn’t _talk_ to anyone down there, he could view them pretty much without them knowing.

People were still walking around, getting ready for qualifying to start. It was strange to see so few people, and Ted swept the binoculars from one end of the pits to the other.

He stopped for a second at the garage of the recently restyled black Mercedes-cars, almost surprised at how far into the garage he could see. The engineers were all wearing the obligatory masks, while Toto Wolff strode around, surveying everyone’s work, in a full-face visor.

Out of habit, Ted took his notebook out of his leg pocket and flipped it to an empty page, quickly scribbling _“terminator”_.

Over the years, he’d gotten very good at writing down his thoughts and putting them away on the page, leaving him free to focus on the next thing. Sometimes it was just nonsensical notes, but a lot of the time these were the bones of what he later compiled into his Notebook-segments.

Focusing on the Mercedes garage again, he noticed one of the mechanics surreptitiously pinching his mask and lowering it to free his nose and mouth. The young man, whose name Ted didn’t know, looked around and then grabbed something from one of the shelves with the neatly stacked folders. He raised his hand and almost leaned back, drinking quickly, before almost shoving the can back into the shelf and readjusting the folder in front of it.

Ted snorted to himself, writing _“brand loyalty”_. He wouldn’t want to be caught with a can of Red Bull in the Merc garage either.

It was pretty nice and cool in the shade of the stands. The wind fluttered the huge banner next to him from time to time, but in a way, it beat walking around down there in the blazing sunshine. Especially with a mask on.

Letting his binoculars go almost all the way to the other end of the pits, Ted looked into the Alpha garages for a while. Things seemed calmer in there – perhaps just because of the lack of pressure at the relative back of the field. People were certainly going about their jobs, but the robot-like efficiency of the previous garage wasn’t quite there.

A familiar face, despite the cap, sunglasses, and mask, came in from the back and temporarily drew everyone’s attention. Kimi looked around, seemed to say hello to a few people, took a lap around the car, and then moved to the back of the garage. He was already in his racing suit but was apparently wearing an ordinary shirt underneath for whatever reason. Wrestling his way out of the sleeves, he took off the cap and sunglasses and then glanced around again before leaving the mask on while removing his shirt.

Ted knew all the drivers were fit.

Of course they were.

They had to be.

But it was still a little _bothersome_ to see someone who had turned _forty_ looking that well-kept. Ted wasn’t _that_ much older, but in any matters physical, Kimi would beat him hands down, no problem, and probably be able to do so without even breaking much of a sweat.

Ted was so distracted by the sudden display of skin that he almost missed the young Italian in the garage next door looking at Kimi like he couldn’t quite believe it either. Even with the mask and everything, it was clear that Antonio’s eyebrows were raised, maybe in surprise, but he wasn’t looking away.

He didn’t look away until one of his mechanics nudged him with his elbow, when Kimi was already slipping on his long-sleeved fireproof shirt.

Without looking, Ted put pen to notebook again.

With so much activity in the garages, the pit lane was pretty free. Some of the drivers were arriving, opting for going that way rather than using the back doors. Ted thought it must be kind of nice, in the eyes of some of them – certainly Kimi must think so – to be left alone while going to and from work.

Close by the Alpha garage were the Williams, cars looking fresh and team looking relatively hopeful, all things considered. Ted figured he should make a note of that, it was a pretty good formulation.

Just as he was about to write, something orange caught his eye. A visitor had made its way over to the bright white garage, and it was safe to say the orange-clad person stood out like a sore thumb.

The lankier of the two drivers, already wearing his helmet, stepped out into the sunlight to greet the orange one. Even at this distance, Ted could see Lando’s face scrunched in joy. He and Russell exchanged the by-now customary bumping of elbows that had replaced high fives and brofists, and then gesticulated as they spoke.

It was interesting, really. The helmets and loud noises were usually what blocked normal conversation, meaning a fair bit of yelling and waving around was normal. With the added masks, it had gone to a whole new level. If he hadn’t been so sure that Russell and Norris actually got along, Ted might have worried at their behavior.

Braving the social distancing rules, Norris reached out and touched George’s arm. It was a hint too friendly, stayed a _bit_ too long, but both drivers still seemed to be very happy in each other’s company. George leaned his head down a little, and Lando, perhaps forgetting he wasn’t in a helmet, bopped his head against Russell’s.

He drew back quickly, holding his head, and both drivers (and a few of the mechanics, who had seen the maneuver) were obviously laughing.

Ted was chuckling too, taking out his notepad again to write _“inter-team unity”_.

A dark something moving down the pits caught Ted’s eye and he focused, realizing it was one of the Haas drivers. Judging from the shape and stature, it was Kevin, making his way down to his garage. He was in his racing suit but not yet wearing a helmet, instead his face was only covered by the mask. His walk was very confident; this was a driver moving with purpose, an ice-breaker, a viking who would not take kindly to being impeded, not on the track and certainly not here.

Looking a little further left, Ted saw someone who was about to find out just how not-impeded Kevin was looking to be. Charles, all in red with the Ferrari-red mask on, was walking along, seemingly looking at the ground. He was moving slowly but there was plenty of space, and if he’d just look up, he’d probably notice and move out of the way very fast indeed.

Charles didn’t look up.

Ted almost wanted to call out, not that it would help but that was the reflex. Instead he kept his binoculars on the figure in red and watched from his perch among the plastic seats as the man in dark gray overalls walked towards, and then more or less right into him.

From the look of it, Kevin kept his shoulder steady and smacked into Charles’s, almost spinning him completely around. Charles was upset, instantly throwing his hands up and Ted could almost have sworn he heard him cursing all the way up in the stands. He could at the very least imagine it.

Kevin turned, and Ted was surprised because he rather thought the Dane must be _grinning_. With the mask on it should be hard to tell, but his eyes looked like they were full of mischievous joy. Then he raised his hand and gave Charles a mocking salute.

Charles stared after him for a second and then stomped off in the direction of the red garage. Inside the Haas garage, Kevin bumped elbows with a few people, including the other Haas driver, who shook his head in what could only be described as an exasperated way. Kevin was clearly still smiling. Ted sat in open-mouthed surprise, writing without looking down at his notes.

Thinking he would check out the view from further up the stands, Ted made his way higher, looking back down at the start-finish straight and almost feeling a little dizzy. When there were people here, it didn’t feel so much like a steep hill that one could tumble down at the slightest misstep.

With his rear planted firmly in a seat, Ted raised the binoculars again and gave the pits another sweeping look. Things were heating up now, the final touches getting added, the last parts being set in place, most drivers already in their garages and fully suited up.

But someone was missing. Had it been anyone else, he might have not noticed, but now it was someone who had been making headlines for a pretty long time before they were back to racing.

Where in the world was Sebastian Vettel?

Ted slowed his looking and scanned the pit lane again. At the front, closest to the exit, the security staff and safety car drivers had gathered, all staying at a safe distance from each other, to talk about the upcoming qualifying. Then came the garages, cars, drivers, staff... but he couldn’t see any figure in red out of place. As he swept past the Alpha garage, he was about to give up. Probably, Sebastian was just in the bathroom or something. Maybe talking to someone in the press area. Maybe he’d been held up by all the safety measures and was just running a bit late.

Or maybe...

The red suit was like a beacon, even in the shade of the garage closest to the pit entrance. The area was usually used for safety vehicles, or kept empty for drivers to congregate in while waiting to go onto the grid. Right now, it was mostly empty. Some equipment was off to one side, but the big, rolling door was open, and Seb had taken refuge inside.

For a moment, Ted thought he might be hiding. Was _the_ Sebastian Vettel actually cracking under the pressure?

Seb’s stance was straight-backed and kind of rigid, and his arms were crossed. Then, to Ted’s surprise, he tilted his head down and shook his head, like he was sad, but when he looked up there was a smile on his face. He was actually finding humor in something.

He wasn’t alone. Someone moved in the shadows closer to the wall, and Ted could only just make out the person bit by bit as they appeared. Very white shoes, then tight-fitting pants, and then a button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

Then Ted lowered his binoculars, as if it would somehow make him see what was going on before him any clearer.

Sebastian Vettel was off in the empty garage, having a private conversation in the shadows, with Jenson Button.

Raising the binoculars and quickly pressing them to his eyes again, Ted struggled to get the focus just right. Now he could tell that they were talking, and he wished with all his heart that he could have had a mic on it. Jenson was still very much connected to racing, with contacts all over the place – was this perhaps part of Sebastian’s strategy for next season?

Sebastian reached up and hooked his fingers over the top of his mask, folding it down below his chin. It was against protocol, certainly, but it wouldn’t be the first time this weekend the FIA had to remind people to stay safe.

Then Seb reached up and unhooked one side of Jenson’s mask too.

Ted stared. Even up here, alone in the stands, he didn’t dare remove his mask. Just in case someone would come down on him for it; he couldn’t risk his work for that bit of comfort. Sebastian seemed to think clear conversation was worth it though, and Jenson didn’t seem in a hurry to put his mask back on.

He leaned in closer and Ted wished even harder for a long-range microphone. His mind was going a mile a minute. Seb going to a different series? Jenson using ties to his old teams to get him a seat maybe? Discussing some kind of press angle?

When Jenson and Seb’s lips met in a kiss, Ted’s mile-a-minute thoughts hit a solid brick wall, and he was left with his mouth hanging open in surprise, kind of wishing for a mental safety car.

They were _kissing!_

It was definitely not a first kiss either, much too familiar. Jenson kept his hands to himself though, until Sebastian opened his eyes mid-smooch. Even from here, there was a very clear heat in his expression. Jenson was smirking at him, seemingly about to speak, when Sebastian grabbed both his hands, placed them around himself, snaked his arms up around Jenson’s neck and pulled him in to kiss him again.

Feeling more voyeuristic than he ever had before in his life – in spite of his job he’d never felt so much like he was _spying_ on people before – Ted kind of wished for a breeze to cool things down a bit. Jenson cheekily lowered his hands down Seb’s back, and Seb in turn pushed in close, and Ted could almost see him grabbing at Jenson’s hair. With Jenson’s mask still hanging off his left ear the scene could have looked silly, but it was anything but.

Sebastian was almost aggressive, kissing Jenson like he was leaving him with a memory before quali, or claiming him, or working out some _intense_ frustration. Jenson was clearly going along with it though, and if the two didn’t come to their senses soon, there might be quite the scandal in the paddock.

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped again. Sebastian took a half-step back, like he was stopping himself from going back for more. His cheeks were almost as red as his racing suit, and he was clearly breathing hard. Jenson looked like he was trying to compose himself, taking a deep breath and smiling crookedly at Sebastian.

Ted kept looking at them until they parted, Sebastian putting his mask back on and setting off at a slow jog down the pit lane, Jenson re-attaching his own mask and smoothing down his shirt a little before slipping out too, heading toward the first door leading to the other side of the garages.

Quali was almost about to start and Ted didn’t know if he’d honestly ever cared less. This huge _something_ had happened and yet he knew he could never tell a single soul about it. It just wouldn’t be right. Still, he had questions, so many questions, and he felt... happy?

“How are you doing up there on your lofty perch?” Simon’s voice was loud in the headphones and Ted was jerked out of his thoughts.

“Eh, I... ah... I’m fine?” Ted hoped his lack of focus could be taken as just being unused to the situation. They were all a little rusty right now, after all.

“We were talking about the alternative Notebook, have you got anything or..?”

Ted blinked a couple of times. It was a foreign language, a long-lost time, and when he finally made sense of what his colleague was saying he looked down at his notes, almost surprised to find the ink on the page.

_“Terminator.”_

_“Brand loyalty.”_

_“Impressive coldfront.”_

_“Inter-team unity.”_

_“Like he had a battleaxe.”_

_“Connections?? Other series??”_

And then finally just a long line, running right across the page, where he’d started trying to write something and then just given up. Ted swallowed, only just keeping his snickering quiet. Who would have thought his job would be made so much worse, yet so much better by _distance_?

“No, I... I’ve got nothing.”

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual! :)  
> Thanks for the read! <3


End file.
